


Sinful

by Optimizche



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Priest Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 14:36:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optimizche/pseuds/Optimizche
Summary: You know that you shouldn't want Father Junmyeon. But you do.





	1. Chapter 1

_What the **fuck** am I doing here_, you asked yourself as you settled into the pew beside your mother.

Never in your life had you been a religious person. Part the revulsion of organized religion came from living with your mother. She read the Bible every time she had a moment free from work or household chores. She frequently attended the neighbourhood church services, fervently participating in its activities.

Another huge contributing factor to your dislike of religion was witnessing the abuse of your mother at the hands of your chronically alcoholic father. Even as a child, when you'd be cowering in the corner of the kitchen, watching as your father beat the living hell out of your mother in a drunken rage, you wondered about the existence of a God. If God _did_ exist, he wouldn't have allowed your mother, your pious and devout mother, to be abused in such a brutal manner.

One day, mercifully, your father decided to abandon your family. Your mother tried her best to hide her relief at the abrupt departure of your father, but you knew better. You had always been a perceptive child. Your mother returned to her Bible, you returned to your studies. And you worked hard. Your academic record won you a full scholarship at a prestigious institute and you finally left the small, sleepy town you had called your home.

You set up a life for yourself in New York City, working as an attorney at one of the city's premiere law firms. You were good at your job, a direct result of which marked a tremendous improvement in your lifestyle. You lived in a penthouse in Upper East Side, drove a Lamborghini, you earned a seven figure salary. The works. Your life was on the right track.

Once a year, around the holidays, like clockwork, you returned to your hometown to pay a visit to your mother. Diagnosed recently with an advanced stage pancreatic cancer, your mother did not have much time to live. You were well aware of that. And hence, you tried to make your remaining time with her as happy and peaceful as possible. You humoured her every request, which is how you had ended up in church today.

Your mother had an expectant look in her eyes, clutching her hymn book in hand as she gazed at the podium.

A few moments passed, before the priest walked in. Everyone stood to greet him. You did too, your eyes glued to your phone in your hand, tapping away a text to your assistant back at work in NYC.

"This is Father Junmyeon Kim," you mother whispered to you, excitement evident in her voice.

You hummed absentmindedly, eyes still focussed on your phone screen as you sat back down with the rest of the congregation.

Typing out the text, you placed your phone into the pocket of your coat, glancing up at the priest for the first time to see why your mother had been so excited about this Father Junmyeon.

You gasped. And you understood _immediately._

The man standing before you was young. Far younger than what you had been expecting. You'd been expecting a middle aged, balding, wrinkled man. Father Junmyeon was none of those things.

He was... _magnetic._ His presence commanded your attention, a sense of leadership innately present in him. Dark haired, dressed in black slacks and a matching black long-sleeved button up shirt with a clerical collar, his presence was imposing.

Throughout the sermon he had a kind, almost seraphic smile upon his lips, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, as he addressed the familiar faces that frequented the church. Your hometown was a small town after all. Sitting in front, you were directly in his line of sight, and when his gaze did find you, his speech faltered for barely a moment, before resuming with its usual cadence.

"Mark Twain said that there is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable," he said, his voice clear and so melodious, he could've almost been a singer. "And I fully agree with him. We humans, are all sinners. No matter what we may say to others, or to ourselves, we all have sinned atleast once in our lifetimes. God has made us that way, it is his will. I believe that as long as there is remorse, as long as there is repentance, God will be willing to forgive any sin. His love for us is infinite, and he loves us _all._ Each one of us has made mistakes, but as long as we ask for forgiveness from Him, we will be forgiven. We will be absolved..."

You found yourself drawn into his sermon, mesmerized by his thoughts, his words, his voice.

And _him._

Most of all, him.

Even as he elaborated further upon how the lure of the forbidden, you couldn't help but notice how devastatingly handsome he looked.

"In conclusion, a quote from Aphra Behn comes to mind. 'There is no sinner like a young saint,' she said. Let us ponder upon it and let us not judge each other for our sins. Let us simply ask for forgiveness and leave the rest to Him. Thank you."

The applause in response to his sermon was resounding and you joined it as well. How refreshing it was to hear a priest speak so open-mindedly about sins. In the scarce other sermons you had listened to in your short churchgoing life, the priests had always denounced the sinner. Father Junmyeon had spoken otherwise.

And it had left quite and impression upon you.

_______________

That very same night, you found yourself unable to stop thinking about Father Junmyeon.

Unable to sleep, you tossed and turned fitfully in bed, your mind replaying his words.

Isn't that _exactly_ what you believed in as well? Sinners should be given a chance at absolution. That is why you worked so hard as a lawyer, defending people who you knew had committed crimes. But you wanted to save them. Because you knew that everyone deserved a second chance.

After a while, your thoughts drifted to Father Junmyeon himself. And they became decidedly unholier, as time passed.

You thought about how broad his shoulders looked, how soft his raven hair would feel if you were to run your fingers through it. You thought about his luscious lips, how they'd feel when they pressed against yours...

By now, a pleasant heat had pooled between your legs and you decided that since Satan himself had decided to tempt you by presenting you with Father Junmyeon, it'd be okay to give in.

Just for once.

No one would have to know...

Your hand crept between your legs and below the waistband of your now soaked panties.

Closing your eyes, you began to think of him while you touched yourself.

The way his voice sounded like a chorus of angels.

The way he smiled.

The way his dark eyes looked at everyone in attendance at the church.

The way his fingers clutched his copy of the Bible. Such long, elegant fingers.

You began to fantasize that your fingers, that were now knuckle deep within you, were _his_ instead.

A deep, throaty moan left your lips at this, and you turned over, onto your front.

Raising your hips into the air, you brought yourself down upon your fingers, plunging them that much deeper into you, imagining _him_ spearing you with his cock.

 _"Junmyeon,"_ you choked out a moan, your other hand clutching at your pillow while you thought about no one but him.

Your release came in a powerful surge, taking your breath away, and you cried out, pressing your mouth into your pillow to muffle the sound.

Once you returned from your high, you realized what you had done. Your fingers were sticky with your juices, your skin sweaty and your chest heaving with gasps.

And your mind remained on Father Junmyeon.


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean the document isn't ready?" you almost shouted into your phone, your other hand clutching a take-away mug of coffee as you rushed through the rain. "I've already given you ample time to prepare! This is just not acceptable..."

It was late evening, raining heavily and you had forgotten to bring your umbrella. It had slipped your mind how temperamental the weather in your hometown could be. You were walking as fast as you could, your the heels of your Louboutin boots clacking rapidly against the sidewalk concrete. On the phone was your assistant, who you had left in-charge of preparing for the deposition of an upcoming case. And he had been unable to complete the task within the designated time. Your coat kept you safe from the worst of the cold rain, but your hair was soaked, falling over your shoulders in a heavy curtain. You just wanted to get _home._

"This is absolutely unacceptable," you said, your eyes glued to the pavement as you walked quickly. "The higher-ups will have my head if you aren't able to finish in time and- _oof!"_

You had walked straight into something very hard and solid, jerking back from the impact, your coffee cup flying out of your hand and landing on the sidewalk, spilling its contents.

"Shit," you grumbled frustratedly, watching the coffee mingle and mix into the rainwater, flowing along into the nearest drain.

"I'm so sorry," came a quiet voice.

You looked up and saw none other than Father Junmyeon standing before you, clad in his usual black, holding an umbrella.

 _He's even more gorgeous up close,_ was your first thought. You pushed it away, a flush rising in your cheeks.

"Father Junmyeon," you whispered. "The fault is mine. I didn't see where I was going."

He smiled at you, and you felt yourself mirroring him, smiling as well. "Please," he said, "call me Junmyeon."

He moved in closer, holding the umbrella above you both now. "And you are?"

You blushed at the proximity, telling him your name, which he repeated. You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue.

"Please, allow me to buy you another coffee," he said. "To make up for the one I spilled?"

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "There's no need for it, Fa- Junmyeon."

"Please, I insist," he pressed with a smile on his rosy lips. "Let me buy you a coffee, and walk you home."

"Oh?"

He shrugged. "There's no way I'm letting you walk alone in the rain without an umbrella."

"Alright," you finally conceded, accepting his offer.

Once you had both bought your coffees, you set out in the direction of your home. Conversation between you flowed with an ease that surprised you. Topics ranging from childhood to careers were covered, while the two of you walked toward your home.

"You're very easy to talk to," you told him, between a sip of your Americano. "You're different from the others."

He smiled. "Why, thank you. But who are these others you mention?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"Other priests," you explained. "Your approach is different. Especially when it comes to subjects like sinning. I was there at your last sermon."

"Yes," he replied, his fingers brushing over yours as his grip on the umbrella tightened in the wake of a strong gust of wind. "I noticed that you were there."

Your heart was racing like that of a lovesick teenager. He _had_ noticed you. So that falter in his speech hadn't been a product of your overactive imagination.

"You believe that every human being sins, at some point in their life," you said. "And I completely agree with you."

He looked at you, his eyes seemingly darkening as his gaze held yours. "I believe that every sinner deserves forgiveness."

"Even murderers?" you asked, thinking about the countless criminals you had defended in court.

"Even murderers."

"Have _you_ ever sinned, Junmyeon?" you found yourself asking before you could stop yourself.

He remained silent, his stare intensifying. You caught yourself. Perhaps you had crossed a line by asking this.

"I'm so sorry," you began. "I-"

He held up a hand to stop you.

"No worries," he replied. "And yes. I have sinned. Quite a lot actually."

You felt your face heat up under the steady, unflinching gaze of the man in front of you, and you tried to change the topic.

"W- we're here," you said to him, pointing at your house. "Thank you for the coffee, Junmyeon."

He grinned. "Thank you for your company. Will you be coming to the church again?"

He sounded hopeful, he looked hopeful, when he offered you the invitation.

"I... I don't know," you said. "I'm in town for a few more days only."

He looked crestfallen. "Oh. Well, it was nice meeting you," he said.

"You too," you responded, filled with a sudden yearning to reach out and kiss his cheek. In case you didn't see him again. But you refrained. He was a _priest_ after all.

"Goodbye," you said, turning to walk away from him, your heart beating so fast that you were surprised he couldn't hear it.

__________

You were walking as fast as your feet could carry you, paying no mind to the sheets of rain pouring down upon you, soaking you to the bone.

Normally, you'd feel cold, but as you walked through the night, alone in the rain, a strange restlessness possessed you. A madness of sorts.

You had to see him one more time before you left the town.

Walking up the church steps, you banged your fist against the closed double doors of the church. Part of you wasn't expecting anyone to answer your call at this hour, in such a terrible rainstorm. But when the door swung open to reveal Father Junmyeon, you were mightily relieved.

He looked shocked, exclaiming your name. "Come in!" he ushered you inside. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I've come here to confess," you replied.

His expression changed from that of shock and surprise to an intense curiosity. What could you possibly have to confess right now that you came to the church through the rain late at night?

Nevertheless, he remained silent and gestured towards the confessional.

You followed him, walking into the wooden stall, shutting the door behind you. He stepped into the other side, seating himself opposite you, shutting the door. It was an enclosed space, a veil separating you from him, so fine that you could see the outline of his features through it.

He waited for you to begin speaking.

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you spoke.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," you mumbled, feeling a bolt of thrill as you spoke the words.

"Tell me, what is it that you've done?"

_This was it._

_Now or never._

_You **had** to say it._

"I- I've lusted, Father. I've lusted after a man who I know I can never have."

Junmyeon remained silent, shifting slightly in his seat, the wooden bench creaking under the movement.

You continued. "I cannot help but want him, Father. I've spent restless nights, touching myself to the thought of him."

His breath hitched audibly at that. "I- I don't understand what it is that you want from me," he said.

"I seek forgiveness, Father. I seek absolution. I seek relief from this unbearable desire that is festering away within me."

He cleared his throat. "You must pray to God and hope that he-"

 _"No,_ Father," you interrupted him. "God can't help me. _You_ can."

Your hands reached out and you pushed the curtain aside to look right at him.

"You can help me, Junmyeon," you said to him, sinking to your knees before him. "I need _you_ to absolve me..."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and you could see a sizeable bulge straining his black slacks.

You reached out, palming him through his pants. "I've seen the way you look at me, Father. You've said that sinning isn't wrong, haven't you?" you asked him with a doe-eyed innocence as you unzipped him, freeing his hardened length from his pants.

He was gorgeous. Hard and long and thick. The silky skin flushed red, pearls of his arousal pooling at the tip.

You ran your tongue over his tip, tasting him for the first time. He groaned, his head falling back as you took him into your mouth.

You took him in deep, as far as he could go down your throat and he let out a choked moan while you bobbed your head up and down on his length. So lost were you in the feel of him in your mouth that you almost forgot the heat that was blooming between your legs.

He gently cupped your cheek and drew you away from him, making you look up at him.

"If you keep going like this, I'm not going to be able to last, love," he said, pulling you up to him for a kiss.

_Love._

His new nickname for you caused a blush to rise in your cheeks as you moulded your lips to his, seating yourself into his lap. Both of your hands clutched at his dark hair while you kissed him desperately. He kissed you back with an ardour matching your own.

When you finally pulled away, you looked him in the eyes. "Fuck me, please. I need you, Junmyeon."

He kissed along your neck, his tongue collecting the droplets of water on your skin, tasting the rain. His hands pulled up the hem of your skirt, bunching the fabric high on your hips. Pushing the soaked lace of your panties aside, he ran his fingers through your folds.

"Such a naughty little girl," he chided, gathering your wetness on his fingertips before bringing them to his mouth.

You watched as he licked them clean, like he had all the time in the world.

"Hurry!" you tried to urge him, partly afraid of getting caught by someone and greatly desperate to have him inside you.

His hand came down roughly upon your ass, delivering a sharp smack that you hadn't been expecting. It made you gasp.

He palmed your stinging flesh, kneading away the ache before hitting you again, harder this time.

 _"Father..."_ you moaned.

"Good girls say 'please'," he responded.

 _"Please,_ Father," you breathed, too far gone to care. "Please fuck me. I need you."

Aligning himself to you, he used his hold upon your hips to impale you upon his cock. Right till the base.

 _"Oh fuck,"_ you gasped, throwing your head back, savouring the searing burn of his sheer girth wedged so deep inside you. You _loved_ the burn.

Using your knees as leverage, you began to ride him. Hard and fast, taking him in as deep as you could.

 _"That's_ it, my little lamb," he said, his hands gripping your ass. "Fuck yourself to absolution on my cock."

You whimpered at his words. How was he, a priest, so good at talking dirty?

Another sharp smack on your ass brought you back from your thoughts.

"Ride me harder," he growled. "Like you mean it."

Another slap to your bottom.

You cried out, not caring about who heard you. He just felt so good.

And you were so close.

So very close.

He knew it, by how tight you were squeezing his cock.

He grasped your rain-soaked hair at the roots and tugged your head back, rolling his hips up into you to meet you.

Your nails dug into his broad shoulders, eyes rolling back into your head, your lungs taking in deep breaths of the stuffy, humid air inside the stall.

He leaned in and brought his lips to your ear. "Come for me now, little lamb," he husked and that was it for you.

With a sharp gasp, you shattered against him, your hips never ceasing in their movements as you rode out your orgasm. The powerful clenches of your walls drew him to his release and he spilled inside you with a groan.

When you both finally calmed, a spasm of worry passed over his face.

"I... I didn't mean to come ins-"

"Its okay," you hushed him with a kiss. "I'm on birth control."

He sighed in relief, before cupping your cheek and pulling you into a kiss.

"Come with me to my place for the night," he spoke against your lips. "I'll cook dinner for you. And after that, I want to make love to you again and _again._ I want to take my time with you."

You nodded, pressing your lips to his once more. "There is no sinner like a young saint, isn't it?" you asked teasingly.

He winked at you. "Indeed, little lamb." 


End file.
